


"Husband and Husband"

by TheGirlInTheBlackVeil



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-11 20:07:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9011659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlInTheBlackVeil/pseuds/TheGirlInTheBlackVeil
Summary: The children learn about weddings and Merlin and Arthur get married.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> -Guess what day it is!  
> ~The day the Merlin writers killed us all?  
> -You bet it is!  
> ~Should totally celebrate by rewatching The Diamond of the Day and then ensuring everyone suffers like we have suffered!  
> (Alternatively in our best Dragoon voices: Merlin writers don't listen to us, believe us. In fact! If they did listen to us there is every chance they would not have KILLED OUR KING!)

Looking at the old photograph a sad smile makes itself known on Arthur’s face. The photograph is creased and faded and missing a corner but it is precious to him. Featured in it is his best friend from a lifetime ago and a much younger, much more innocent version of himself. Merlin had been the other boy’s name, not like Arthur could forget that, he had forgotten much from childhood but he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget Merlin.

Arthur and Merlin had gone to nursery together, that was strange in and of itself because Arthur came from a family with a much higher SES than Merlin but apparently his mother had arranged for him to go to that nursery before he had been born and his father had followed through with her plan. In their class their teacher had developed a unique reward system to motivate the children, the child who was doing the best got to pick toys for playtime first meaning everyone wanted to do well so that they could play with the coolest toys. Merlin had been the smartest boy, if not smartest kid, in the class so he always got to play with the cool toys and at first Arthur was jealous and hated him because of it.

Then everything changed when Arthur pushed Merlin in a mud puddle one day. After a time out for Arthur and a change of clothes for Merlin the teacher had forced Arthur to apologize. He did, and he actually meant it because he hadn’t meant to make the other boy cry he just wanted to play with the car Merlin was using. Merlin, being the kind soul that he was, accepted Arthur’s apology by asking Arthur if he wanted to play with him. Arthur couldn’t believe it was that easy, that if he was kind to the other boy not only could he play with the cool toys but he could play cool games with Merlin and everyone else who played with Merlin. Because let’s face it, when you are that young the thing that makes you popular is whether or not you have cool toys that you are willing to let other’s use.

Soon Arthur and Merlin were best friends. They played together every day during playtime, shared snacks during snack time, slept next to each other during naptime, and sat next to each other during circle time or work time. Even when not at school they played together. Merlin’s mommy was really nice and let them play in the garden or would take them to the park on weekends, sometimes she’d even treat them to ice cream or make them sweets.

One Monday in April Susan Hill came to school bragging about her mommy’s wedding and, children being children, they were all curious, no one had ever been to a wedding before. Susan explained it to them, although she fibbed a lot because she didn’t remember everything correctly but they didn’t know that. Weddings sounded cool. Cool clothes, food, music, flowers and dancing, games, and ceremonies. Suddenly they all wanted to play at wedding, being brides and grooms, ring carriers (for Susan had forgotten it was actually called a ring bearer), flower girls, brides maids, best men, ministers (Merlin loved being the minister), even playing a parent of the bride or groom was an important role.

So began Arthur’s troubles. For children they had developed a great many rules and procedures involved to properly play wedding.  Like a boy had to give a ring to a girl and ask her to marry him. Then if she accepted they had to do wedding preparations, then go through an intricate ceremony then they had the after party and finally they could be husband and wife. Arthur wanted to marry Vivian. Everyone knew she was the coolest girl in class because not only was she one of the smartest but her mommy let her wear makeup and she had won beauty pageants which meant she was the prettiest. He had told Merlin of his plans and Merlin, being the bestest friend ever, helped him tie the ring he made with the pretty bead on it and had agreed to be his best man even though he wanted to be the minister. Arthur had approached Vivian right before they went outside for playtime, knelt down, and with all the seriousness of a four (and a half, thank-you-very-much) year old asked, “Vivian, will you be my wife?”

“No,” she responds haughtily sticking her nose in the air.

“What? But I made you a ring and everything!”

She stomped her foot, “I said ‘no’, I want to marry Merlin, I’ve been waiting for him to ask me. Besides I like pink, not silver. Now go away and take your ugly ring with you.” And Arthur, who had almost been reduced to tears, ran outside to where Merlin was waiting and told him everything.

“Will you marry her?” He asks his friend hoping that he wouldn’t so that maybe then Vivian would accept him.

“No I won’t. I don’t want to marry a girl who’s mean to my best friend. And you should be glad she said ‘no’ because you don’t want a mean wife.”

Arthur smiles and throws an arm around Merlin’s shoulders, “You’re the bestest Merlin. But now who are we going to marry?” But before Merlin can answer they are called to attend yet another wedding.

It isn’t until they are settling down for naptime that they remember their problem but the teacher shushes them when they start to talk. They will have to discuss it the next day.

The next day though Bobby and Felicity, a married couple, have a big fight that involves Bobby pulling Felicity’s hair and Felicity biting Bobby’s arm and then a time out for both of them. After their forced apologies they claim they want to be unmarried. Bobby claims that Felicity doesn’t want to play with the other boys and forces him to play dress up and house all the time and Felicity says all he talks about is monsters and trucks and sports and doesn’t know how to play house properly. Suddenly some of Felicity’s friends say they also want to be unmarried because they have similar problems and want to be married to someone else. No one’s quite sure what to do so they end up asking the teacher if people can be unmarried and she says they can if they go through a divorce. Merlin, who is the default minister, decides he will conduct a divorce ceremony and at the end the married couple will be unmarried.

During snack time later that same day Merlin turns to Arthur and says, “That’s why I never got married. Girls are boring because they are so different from boys. If I want to play cars or blocks or adventure and she wants to play house or dolls or dress up one of us will never be happy.”

“You’re right!” Arthur exclaims with the sudden realization, “girls suck!” Then his little shoulders deflate “I still want to get married though. It’d be much better if boys could get married to boys and girls could get married to girls. If we got married to each other we’d be happy because we always hang out together and we like playing together.”

“Why can’t boys get married to boys and girls to girls?” Merlin asks as if the thought just struck him.

Arthur’s face scrunches up in deep thought before he finally answers with, “Who would be the woman though? Who would ask and who would have a bouquet, who would be ‘husband’ and who would be ‘wife’? It just wouldn’t work.”

“Does it matter who asks? In the end everyone makes and gives rings. No one needs to be the woman it could be ‘husband and husband’ or ‘wife and wife’.”

“Yeah but it wouldn’t be like a real wedding.”

“Yes it would,” Merlin exclaims, “boys can get married to boys and girls to girls!”

“They can?” Arthur asks puzzled.

Merlin gives a defiant nod, “I’ve seen it on telly. Do you want to ask the teacher?”

So during circle time later that day, so that the entire class can hear, Merlin raises his little hand high and says, “Miss, can two boys get married to each other?” And the poor teacher, who was completely caught off guard, stumbles over her words for a few seconds before saying, “yes,” because she was a very liberal person and how were you supposed to explain the difference between marriage, civil partnership, and union to toddlers? Merlin had a smug smile on his face and Arthur felt over joyed, he could marry his best friend! Meanwhile a girl had asked if two girls could get married and then the teacher wasn’t able to get the class under control for the rest of the period because everyone was digesting this new information.

Merlin and Arthur were the first same sex couple to get married the next day. They had made each other cool rings and walked down the aisle with their arms linked. Vivian cried throughout the entire ceremony but Arthur was too happy to notice or care. Connor, who was decidedly not as good at playing minister as Merlin was, led the ceremony although he forgot a few lines and when he said “I now call you husband and husband, you may now kiss your husband,” Arthur confidently kissed Merlin on the lips because everyone knew you couldn’t get cooties from another boy. (If he had married Vivian he isn’t sure he would have been brave enough to kiss her on the lips. While some boys had been brave enough to kiss their wives on the lips it was acceptable to kiss on the cheek instead because no one wanted to get cooties from a game.) Arthur had had his nanny bake a cake so that he and Merlin could feed each other it at snack time and then they crossed arms and drank from each other’s juice boxes. They held hands almost all day and cuddled up next to each other on a shared mat during naptime. Merlin pressed his cold nose to Arthur’s neck and it made him shriek then they were both giggling and they got shushed several times because Merlin kept doing it and Arthur thought it was hilarious and Arthur knew this had been the best decision he had made in his four (and a half) years of life.

Sometime around June the majority of the class lost interest in playing wedding or husband and wife, no one wanted to sit through wedding ceremonies anymore, some couples asked to be unmarried, most just drifted apart because it was only a game and they could just stop playing. Though not Merlin and Arthur because they had been best friends before they got married and Merlin told him that was the key to a successful marriage, you had to be best friends first. Arthur enjoyed being husband and husband too, it was different from being best friends. He liked holding Merlin’s hand and cuddling up during naptime, he even liked kisses. He had worried that over the summer Merlin wouldn’t want to be married anymore but they hung out enough that it wasn’t a problem. Merlin’s mommy thought it was adorable and took many photos of the two of them together, she had even given him one that she had taken at his birthday party at Merlin’s house and put it in a frame that read “best friends”. Arthur would have rather it said “husband and husband” but Merlin’s mommy said that she couldn’t find a frame like that. Arthur liked the photo because Merlin had surprised him as he had been about to blow out his candles and had leaned over and put a wet smooch on his cheek causing them to both grin like idiots, their smiles so large their eyes had crinkled to the point you couldn’t tell what colour they were.

Arthur thinks there hadn’t been a happier time in his life. He and Merlin had stayed married for over a year. Merlin was a great husband, in fact, out of the numerous relationships Arthur had had throughout his life his “marriage” with Merlin had been the happiest and healthiest of all his relationships. That probably said a lot about his relationships and his life in general.

He remembers how Merlin had held him and run his fingers through his hair while he cried after his father had been arrested and again after the trial where his father was found guilty and he was told he had to go live with Uncle Agravaine whom he had never met and that would mean leaving his house, his school, and Merlin. Merlin had tried to get Hunith to adopt Arthur like in _Matilda_ but that was just a story and it didn’t work like that in real life. And then, when it was clear that nothing could be done and that they had run out of time, Merlin had pressed a million kisses to his face and told him that he would love him forever, had waved, with tear stained cheeks, until Arthur couldn’t see him anymore out of the back of the car window.  

Arthur didn’t like his uncle but put up with him for eight years until it was exposed that he had framed Uther and he was arrested. It was too late though because Uther had died in jail and so Arthur was placed in foster care. He wasn’t a kid anymore though, he could look after himself, it was scary, but he could do it, he needed to do it because the foster families were cruel to him, blaming him for his family’s crimes, expecting him to be indebted to them. So he had found an older man and became his boyfriend and moved in with him. And when that man threw him out on the streets for being ‘a needy little fuck’ he found another man and moved in with that one. Then the next one, and the one after that, and the one after that one too. He had sometimes been homeless in between boyfriends. He’d managed to finish high school though and could get a minimum wage job if his current boyfriend wasn’t opposed to him working. He yearned for the day he could be completely independent.

He puts the photo away cursing himself for wasting so much time reminiscing. It’s always the case when he sees that particular photo, he can’t help but relive the past and think of all the “what if”s. He doesn’t have time though, not today. He has to get out and get out now before Kanen gets back.

Kanen… hadn’t been an ideal choice from the start. The man was a regular at the petrol station and had made his interests known. While Arthur had never been unpleasant to Kanen he had been hoping for a better alternative so had not responded to the man’s advances for months. The man was obviously a low life, he drove some old, rusted, Ford truck that sported three different colours of paint, was vulgar to the point where several women had rushed children out of the store with hands over their ears, he smoked at least a carton for Mayfair’s a day because he always managed to come in during Arthur’s shift to buy another, and he’d once bragged to Arthur about the scar he had gotten in prison where he had been doing time for armed robbery.

Arthur’s last boyfriend had been kind enough to allow him to work and he had been saving up to become truly independent but a call from an ex-wife later Arthur had abruptly found himself without a place to stay. It had majorly screwed up his plans for the only place willing to put him up was a drastically overpriced bedsit in a cellar on a six-month contract and a three month advance. It had wiped out his savings and then some. Seven months later Arthur found himself threatened with eviction, he had been unable to get more hours because business was bad, was working too many random shifts to pick up a few hours elsewhere, and hadn’t been able to get a better paying job because he couldn’t afford to take a day or two off to hand out CVs or attend interviews. He had known at that point he’d have to play boyfriend again, the landlord was losing his patience with half payments and promises of “next week” and it was going to be a harsh winter, he already had known Kanen was interested but put it off for a long time desperately hoping for someone else. But beggars can’t be choosers.

As Arthur had expected Kanen didn’t hold a job, Arthur wasn’t sure how he made his money and didn’t want to know. What he did know is that Kanen would come and go with no rhyme or reason and that he thought that as his boyfriend it was Arthur’s job to be at his every beck and call meaning Arthur had to quit his job. The first three months were okay, second hand smoke, profanity, rough sex, and acting as some sort of 1950s trophy wife aside. Then mid-March Kanen had come home high on something and it started with the usual yelling, the chores weren’t done yet, he wanted steak and potatoes for dinner goddamn it, not bloody pasta and salad, the yelling, banging, swearing were normal, it didn’t scare Arthur. But then he had taken too long to get ready and found himself thrown into the bedroom wall. Kanen didn’t even take what he had wanted, just shook him a few times calling him all sorts of names before throwing him on the bed getting dressed and walking out, his truck backfiring loudly before the tyres squealed as he sped off.

It wasn’t a onetime offence either, it wasn’t like the regular domestic abuse with the apologises and the promises that it would never happen again, no good behaviour followed. The very next night Arthur had his arm twisted forcefully behind his back as he was pinned to the kitchen table for dropping a fork when he was drying the dishes. Following that he was backhanded, kicked, shaken once again, his latest and worst injury was a fractured rib.

He had to get out, he had never intended to stay long, but he had been hoping to stay a little while longer just to ensure the worst of winter was truly behind them so that he wouldn’t freeze to death. But having been threatened with a steak knife the night before and his fractured rib it was clear that if he didn’t leave soon his death would be guaranteed. The weather was warming up and it was forecasted to be warm the next few days, Arthur knew he’d have to live on the streets for a while, hopefully he could find another man soon enough, one that would let him work so that he could maybe finally escape this life, it was now or never. So when Kanen had gone out to get more repairs done on the truck Arthur had hurriedly packed his meager belongings deciding against taking anything that wasn’t his for fear that it would give Kanen reason to pursue him, hopefully the man would be too lazy to go after Arthur if nothing was missing, and after binding his ribs and popping one last pain killer, fled.

He’d become an expert at this by now. His first priority was securing a cart to make carrying everything easier. Then it was to flee, get as far away from this town and Kanen, his old land lord, and his old boss as he could. Finally he needed to stake out a place to sleep, somewhere relatively sheltered, preferably an ally protected from three sides with an overhang roof to prevent the rain from falling on him, near a fast food joint or a Tesco because those places were always throwing perfectly good food out at the end of the day and often didn’t notice if he slipped in quickly to use their facilities. He should start advertising himself right away, while he still looked decent, clear shaven, freshly showered, not yet scrawny from lack of food, but his body demanded rest, his ribs and arse ached and he just couldn’t bring himself to stand at a corner and flaunt himself. Besides, he wasn’t entirely sure the area was safe yet, someone could easily steal of destroy his stuff just for the hell of it. So he grabbed some cardboard from a nearby dumpster and constructed a flimsy lean-to to protect him from the light drizzle.

He was right to have been suspicious of such a perfect spot. Apparently it’s where the local gang meets up to sell drugs and they didn’t appreciate him being on their turf, especially because they hadn’t realized him sleeping and then woke him with their loud argument and then accused him of being an undercover cop because they were clearly both lacking in intelligence and already stoned out of their minds and that was apparently the obvious conclusion. There was no reasoning with them, he had quickly realized this and just asked he be allowed to grab his stuff and leave but they wouldn’t even allow him that. In the end he lost his tarp, received a kick to the shin, and a cut from one of their knives across his arm but the worst was the jostling his rib got as he ran quite literally for his life while trying take all of his belongings.

He wasn’t sure what hurt more, his leg, his arm, his rib or the cold that was quickly becoming painful as the adrenaline wore off and the rain soaked in. He ends up in a bus shelter, knowing if the police or even a bus came by he’d be kicked out but it was a place to sit and it was relatively dry and he needed to calm down and breathe and he couldn’t go very far. He could barely breathe, afraid that too deep a breath would mean a punctured lung but his body needed oxygen causing him to take small rapid breaths which was quickly leading him to hyperventilation. Oh god, how had he ever managed to do this? He couldn’t breathe, his vision was going spotty, the pain was making him disoriented. He should have just put up with the foster families at least they wouldn’t have tried to kill him, at least he doesn’t think they would have. He was going to die. Cold and alone in a bus shelter chocking on his own blood. He’s too weak to fetch the photograph he was just looking at a few hours prior. He tries to recall the happier times but reality keeps pulling him out of his fantasy with its pain.

_So this is how it all ends_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Incoming Rant*  
> So this was supposed to be posted with the first chapter. I don't know if it was my fault, my computer/home network's fault or the website but obviously it didn't get publish a fact I didn't notice until about a week later. Then I reread and went to go publish what I had and decided I wasn't happy with it, told myself I'd edit it and get it up by the end of the day. Still didn't like it, started from scratch, promised I'd have it done before I went back to school because I knew once I started I wouldn't have time. Starting week two of school now, have opted to fall behind in two of my classes to finish this (more because it was bugging me and not so much because of popular demand/outrage). Long story short I'm still not happy with it but it's going in the done folder because I probably won't write again until reading week, maybe even summer. Apologies for the confusion/low quality ending.

He breathes a sigh of relief when he wakes, _it was all just a nightmare_ , then the pain hits him, dulled but still, well, painful, and brings him back to true awareness. He has no idea where he is, it’s not Kanen’s place, it’s not a hospital. It’s warm, and dry, and the bed is soft and it smells nice. He can’t say exactly what it smells of; a bit like laundry softener, a bit like man, a bit like a distant memory he can’t place. He dozes again, somewhat unintentionally because he knows that he really should ensure its safe to do so first, get up and investigate, find out what’s happened to his stuff, but he _feels_ safe, and he’s too tired to care about his things right now.

He’s not sure how much later it is when he’s woken again. Someone slips into bed beside him and it is second nature to cuddle up. Of course cuddling up means rolling over, which means landing on his injured side, which means fully waking up. “Ah!” He exclaims quickly rolling back onto his back and making to clutch at his injured rib, unfortunately, he attempts to do so with his injured arm which apparently had scabbed over because he manages to re-tear that too which results in a hiss and to top it all off he then manages to bang his bruised shin on the other person.

“Stop! Stop, stop! Geez just stay still.” Sound advice, if only it had come earlier. Arthur attempts to remain still and breathe through the pain, eyes scrunched shut while the other person, _man_ , his mind helpfully supplies, manipulates his body into a less painful position, one where Arthur can breathe without feeling like he’s about to die.

“Thanks,” he attempts to say only to find he can barely get the words out because his throat is dry. In response a glass of water is brought to his lips and his head is tilted to help him drink. Once he’s finished the glass he finally gets a look at the man. The man’s young, smooth pale skin, soft black hair, plump pink lips, and large blue eyes. He’s pretty.

The man laughs, “Thanks, I think.” Oops must have said that bit out loud, definitely must be on some sort of medicine.

“Just an aspirin.”

“Oh, I’m not dead then?”

The man has a cheerful laugh. “Hardly, you have a fractured rib, some bruises, and a cut, that’s all.”

“Oh,” he says again feeling rather stupid, “I thought my heart had stopped.”

The man smiles kindly, “You had a panic attack and then passed out on me, you were pretty out of it, don’t you remember?”

No he doesn’t, at least, he doesn’t think he remembers. The man does look familiar, maybe that’s why he feels safe, because the man had already helped him once.

Arthur frowns. He shouldn’t feel safe. He should be on edge, suspicious, ready for an attack of some sort. This man looks kind but Arthur’s been fooled into this before. Kanen was an irregularity. Normally the abusers, the sociopaths, start off kind, they’re beautiful, charismatic, they lure you in with their charm and fuck you over before you even begin to question them. He’s sure pretty much everyone would scold him for these kinds of thoughts. The majority of the population isn’t psycho- or sociopathic, they aren’t necessarily out to get him, he’s being paranoid, but he’s not. They haven’t lived the life he has, they don’t know about the sixth sense these people seem to have for spotting the weak, their prey. They also don’t know how a seemingly nice person can start to become less than perfect when they realize that someone is dependent on them. They think that they are doing a good deed but then they expect payment of some sort, first it’s often just a sense of good karma, then it’s “you’ll pay me back once you’re on your own two feet” but soon it’s playing housewife, doing chores, cooking meals, running errands. They become accustom to these “favours”, find ways to ensure they keep getting what they want, become greedy and want even more. He shouldn’t feel at peace with this man but there’s no reason to run just yet. He has to keep an eye out for the dangerous behaviour, he’ll take what he can and leave when it’s too much.

He wonders, while one part of him shakes its head forlornly and another jumps for joy, if this man would be interested in taking him on as a boyfriend. Arthur’s gaydar has always been crap but then again he’s found that if a man’s desperate it doesn’t really matter if it’s a man or a woman that’s servicing his cock so long as it’s being serviced. Arthur doesn’t think he’d mind too much, the man’s pretty, he’s already established that, so long as he isn’t into some of that freaky stuff it wouldn’t be difficult.

“Arthur?” Arthur’s heart lurches in fear, how does he know his name? The man seems oblivious to his fear looking at him with worry. It must not have been the first time he had tried to get his attention.

“How do you know my name?”

The man cocks his head to the side looking a little curious and a little sad. “You really don’t remember, do you?” Arthur frowns, this time in puzzlement. Maybe it really was innocent and this man wasn’t a stalker and Arthur had simply told him his name last night… or was that tonight? He’s not sure what time it is.

The man claps his hands together seemingly composed again, startling Arthur out of thought.

“Well then,” he declares with a smile, “welcome to my flat Arthur, it’s small but it’s home. This is the only bedroom I’m afraid, main area through that door,” he points to it even though the other one is obviously a closet, “full bathroom is the door on your right when you exit. Ah, it’s missing a doorknob though, lock broke a few weeks back, mate of mine thought he could fix it, ended up destroying the entire thing, haven’t been able to replace it yet.”

Seeing his chance Arthur’s quick to reply, “If you have a new one I can attach it for you.”

“Don’t even think about it,” and Arthur’s not sure what he’s done wrong, “You’re my guest here and your first priority is to get better. You shouldn’t be jostling that rib too much and I know I’ve bound it and installing a doorknob isn’t heavy lifting by any means but I still don’t want you fiddling with screwdrivers and such.”

“I’m sorry?” for he isn’t sure if he should be apologising, the other man seems to pause at his response so Arthur quickly goes on to justify himself, “I just wanted to repay you, for looking after me.”

The man smiles, “You don’t need to repay me Arthur, you gave me quite the scare to be honest.” _That’s what you’re saying now,_ Arthur thinks glumly, _give it a few days and I’m sure that’ll change._ “Are you hungry?” the man asks. His stomach growls in response. “I’ll take that as a yes then,” he laughs, “I was going to make a late breakfast anyway before I have to go to class, might as well eat it while it's hot.” The man is gone before Arthur can even blink and he slumps back against the pillows for a moment. He’s disoriented and in pain and it’s making him tired and while he has registered that he is hungry he’s tempted to just let sleep claim him again. He’s not entirely sure it is safe to do so yet, not to mention his bladder and stomach are demanding he get up and satisfy them before going back to sleep.

With a sigh he starts to get up realizing it’s a lot more of a hassle than it should be mainly thanks to his rib. Finally upright he makes it out of the bedroom and does a quick assessment of the flat. It _is_ rather small but for a university student, which Arthur assumes this man is, living on his own, which Arthur assumes he is since there’s only one bedroom and no sign of another, it’s decent. It also doesn’t have the feel of a student’s/bachelor’s place and Arthur wonders if perhaps this man has a woman in his life who has helped furnish the flat. Without turning around from whatever he’s doing on the hob the man says, “I’m just doing pancakes and fruit smoothies, I hope that’s okay. I could make toast with marmalade if you’d like but I’m afraid that’s all I have to offer.” Arthur feels blood rush to his face and is glad the other man isn’t looking at him. When was the last time someone had made him pancakes? Really he has no reason to be making such a big deal out of it, it could still all be a ploy, but they have always been his favourite breakfast food.

He manages to clear his throat and answer, “Pancakes are great, thanks,” before rushing into the bathroom and collapsing on the toilet.

He needs a minute to breathe. So, starting from the beginning; apparently he isn’t dead nor is he going to die from his injuries. He’s in a young bloke’s (is it safe to assume he’s a student? He could be a teacher) flat. Said bloke knows his name (presumably from Arthur telling him but he doesn’t remember that although he does remember someone with him now, grasping his shoulders but, no, not dealing with memories yet), seems to be intent on helping him and being kind (for now), seems to live alone although may or may not have a girlfriend, oh and he’s fit— _that’s not relevant_ —and his little demon-self pouts and returns to its corner. He doesn’t know this bloke’s name and it’s probably something he should get, is that rude though? They already covered the fact that Arthur didn’t remember but it still felt wrong to ask for his name after he probably had introduced himself last night, it was like being introduced to someone and asking them to tell you their name again mid conversation. But it probably wouldn’t be overly polite to pretend that he knew it either. Ugh, Arthur splashes his face with water then looks in the mirror, apparently he feels worse than he looks. He then realizes that the black t-shirt and sweats aren’t his. Panic sets in _where’re my things?!_ Everything he owns was in that cart, it’s obviously not much but it’s his life. To start from scratch again might mean death, some things simply couldn’t be replaced, _my photo_.

Bursting out of the bathroom, startling the man who’s setting the little table, he probably sounds half mad with panic when he simply declares, “My things,” in a voice that probably sounds much too threatening.

“Whoa, Arthur, it’s okay,” but that doesn’t settle him, “your things are fine. Your coat and boots are in the front hall closet,” by that point Arthur’s already in it to confirm that yes, they are there, “I put your other clothes in my laundry bag, I’m doing my stuff later tonight so I’ll wash yours too,” Arthur finds that easily enough because it’s sitting right next to the front door as a reminder, “see if I can patch up your shirts and jumpers, it’s a good thing you were wearing so many layers or that gash would have been much worse.” Arthur looks at him expectedly, “Um, backpack is in the bedroom closet, I didn’t go through your things but if your need anything else washed let me know,” Arthur’s already back in the bedroom when the man calls, “sleeping bag is in there too! Remind me to take it down later to wash,” from the other room. He’s opening his bag ensuring the important things are there and they are, right between his spare jeans and an old box of condoms that he’s been using to hold his toiletries is the photograph. He’s finally able to breathe. “Breakfast is ready whenever you are!” the man calls as if this is a normal occurrence and Arthur didn’t just freak out on him.

Arthur tries to spare himself the reminiscing and lovingly tucks the photo away composing himself before heading to the table. He’s unable to look at the other man, his socked feet suddenly really interesting, when he says, “I’m sorry.”

“No harm done,” and Arthur already has a good enough read on him that he knows the other man is smiling. How can he be so nonchalant about all of this? “Come, sit, eat. I swear it’s all right Arthur. My friend Kara works part time in a tailor’s shop, she’ll fix all of your clothes that got cut, well, maybe not the coat, I don’t know if she can do polyester, if anything else was lost or broken I’m sure we can fix it or buy a new one. For now sit down and eat, they’ll get cold.” No one’s that nice to strangers, not even the rich, let alone some university student who is probably trying to make ends meet. “I’ve got Nutella and cinnamon,” he sing-songs misinterpreting Arthur’s silence for refusal but at that Arthur looks up sharply and sure enough there’s a jar of Nutella and a shaker of cinnamon. It shouldn’t be possible, surly no one correctly assumes that a person’s favourite breakfast, one that he hasn’t had since before he was whisked off to his uncle’s place, is pancakes with Nutella and cinnamon. His stomach growls again and he doesn’t question it hurriedly sitting down and preparing his pancakes so that they’re still hot enough that the Nutella will melt. They taste like childhood, he’d say sunshine and rainbows but that’s bordering on pathetic.

He looks up, pancake half in his mouth half being held down on the plate with his fork, when a glass of apple juice is placed before him, the man’s smiling fondly at him, eyes sparkling with laughter. Apple juice was the only juice he would drink as a kid, this man _knows_ him, looking at him Arthur’s almost certain he knows him too but for the life of him can’t figure out _why,_ or even from where. He manages to bite off, chew, and swallow the piece of pancake that was in his mouth, then seeing the man still smiling, grabs the napkin and wipes his mouth before asking, “who are you?”

The eyes go sad again and he hastily turns away, his voice sounds teasing though, “let’s make a game of it then, guess,” and that causes Arthur to frown.

“How am I supposed to guess, your name could be Rumpelstiltskin for all I know.”

Than earns him a laugh, “I’m not Rumpelstiltskin. You know me Arthur, I know you know that.”

“But I don’t know from where.”

“Well you best figure it out then.” And after that they eat in silence, Arthur glancing up at the other man every now and then hoping the answer will come to him.

They finally finish and their pancakes, Arthur still none the wiser about whom he’s just dined with, and the man starts putting things away, Arthur’s at a loss as to what to do, feeling obliged to help out yet like he’ll get underfoot if he tries. “All right then, I’ve got to get to class, but first let’s get you back to bed, you’ve thought yourself out.” The fact that the man already has Arthur lying down before he registers what the man means indicates that, unfortunately, he’s probably correct.

“I can do the dishes for you,” he says feebly as the other man tucks him in.

“Don’t you dare touch the dishes Arthur, I’ll deal with them when I get back. Just stay here, get some rest, I’ll be back in about three hours then we’ll do the laundry and ask Kara about your clothes.”

Arthur’s not sure if he fell asleep for a few minutes or if he’s just slow and the other man’s really fast because he’s gone by the time Arthur touches his forehead wondering if he really had just been kissed. Then, with superhuman effort, he gets up and does the dishes finally managing to glance at the clock on the microwave and realizing it’s already quarter to one but the time no longer feels overly important as he crawls back into the warm bed and passes out.

He’s woken up when the bed jostles and a hurriedly whispered, “Sorry, sorry,” to which he grumbles, grabs the other man and tucks himself into his side. _This is nice_. The other man’s boney but apparently a master in the art of cuddles. He’s just about to doze off when a cold nose is pressed to his neck, “Ack!” The other man chuckles before doing it again causing Arthur to laugh too.

“Merlin, stop it!” The name comes unbidden and causes them both to crease their laughter.

“So you do remember,” and Arthur can hear the smile in his voice, he didn’t know, not even after calling this man Merlin was he sure until now, until he’s confirmed it.

“Merlin.” This can’t be real. He died, he’s definitely dead and he’s gone to some sort of heaven/hell where he’s forced to realize everything he could have had and was forced to live without.

“Hey, Arthur, shh, it’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you, don’t cry,” but he can’t stop his loud sobs and it’s jostling his rib and it hurts.

It’s strange; how you can know what someone looked like as a child but being unable to recognize them as an adult. Yet once you know it’s difficult to remember that at one time you didn’t know what they would look like, it seems like this was ever the only option, that they’d retain these features, loose these ones, look like X member of their family in this regard. Yet Merlin had recognized Arthur, despite the way his lifestyle had changed him into some shadow of what he could have been, and he didn’t recognize Merlin.

“I’m sorry,” he manages to choke out, “I didn’t forget you. I’d never forget you Merlin, I just didn’t recognize you.”

“Shh, it’s all right Arthur,” and there, just like in childhood, a flurry of kisses land on his face, it makes him cry more because he had forgotten what it was like to be loved. It’s been so long, they had been children, this isn’t possible. It isn’t possible that they had found each other again, it isn’t possible that Merlin seemingly hasn’t changed a bit personality wise… it isn’t possible Merlin loves him. They were children, what did they know of love? They were children, they had married each other because they didn’t know yet about sexuality and simply thought girls were strange and had cooties.

“This isn’t possible,” he declares removing himself from the bed.

“Arthur,” Merlin calls after him, but he’s already out the door. Dare he leave? Does he really want to leave? _No_ , is the immediate and clear response, but he needs time, and apparently he needs to relieve himself.

He realizes too late that he can’t necessarily stall in the bathroom when Merlin calls, “Arthur there isn’t even a doorknob!”

“I know, just… just give me a moment.”

There’s an audible sigh and then, “Fine,” and Arthur hears him stalk off.

His body is aching and he lowers himself to the floor, craving the bed but unable to look at Merlin, it’s hard enough hearing him rummaging around in the kitchen, then again he feels like he’s about to be sick, probably best he stays by the toilet. Or maybe he’s about to pass out? There’s a soft knock at the door which causes it to open slightly and almost hit him on the head.

“Arthur?” Merlin calls, “I’ve made tea, no caffeine. I’ve reheated the pot of vegetable stew Mum gave me last night too.” Arthur glares at his stomach as it betrays him again, he must have been asleep longer than he thought. “Arthur?” Merlin calls again.

“Coming, I’m coming,” he replies lifting himself from the floor with the assistance of the counter. He scowls at his reflection, he looks worse than this morning, face pale, stubble noticeable, dark circles, hair askew, and red eyes. He tries to splash his face with cold water and smooth down his hair but it doesn’t do much. Finally he gives up, takes a deep breath, and exits the room, turning off the light.

Merlin gives him a gentle smile from where he sits at the table with a cup of tea. There’s another place set, a cup of tea on a saucer, a steaming bowl of what must be the soup, and a hunk of bread. He sits and Merlin takes a sip of his tea, it should relive some of the tension but it somehow makes the situation seem tenser. He fidgets for a moment before he decides to pick up the spoon and give the soup a try. It’s very hot, something he undoubtedly should have clued into seeing as Merlin said he had just reheated it and he could see the steam. He doesn’t burn himself but it’s a close thing. He’s more careful with the next spoonful, blowing on it to cool it down before putting it in his mouth, it’s delicious. Halfway through his soup he’s pretty much forgotten about Merlin but catches sight of him when he reaches for the bread.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” The moment he’s said it he wants to smack himself in the head. He’s been sitting here in silence because he doesn’t want to engage in conversation, all the questions, all the answers he might not want to hear, all that potential concern that he can’t bear to.

“I had dinner at work, as compensation for doing a last minute shift. Sorry about that, by the way. I got called into work only just got home, nearly midnight.”

“Didn’t notice,” Arthur says honestly.

“Yes I figured you’d been asleep the entire time, you’ve been through a lot your body is trying to heal,” and they are boarding on dangerous territory, but before Arthur can try to turn the conversation away Merlin continues, “except, I see, to get up and do the dishes.”

“I was just trying to help out.”

“I said I would do them when I got home, I told you not to do them, to stay in bed.”

“Well it’s a good thing I did the dished because I doubt you wanted to do them at midnight.”

“I could have done them in the morning.”

“I highly doubt so, you’re no morning bird.”

“I still could have done them. Why couldn’t you just have listened to me?”

“So, taking that advice should I just never do anything nice?”

“Oh will you stop, you’re being a clotpole.”

“A clotpole?” Merlin nods, “What on earth is a clotpole?”

Merlin shrugs looking less upset by the moment, “You, apparently.” Merlin laughs, “Geez, listen to us we sound like an old married couple.”

Emotion hits him, happy/sad, he didn’t know it was possible to feel both at once until today. He’s happy about having this moment, about being “husband and husband” when they were children. He’s sad that they’re grown up now, that things have changed. A tear lands in his soup before he realizes he’s crying, again, he’s been doing a lot of that today. A hand cups his face and Merlin’s there, looking concerned.

“Arthur…” and it’s barely a sigh, “Arthur, I looked for you, once all this social media became a thing, Myspace, Twitter, Facebook, I thought you had changed your name, went into witness protection or something. I know we were only children, even Mum was surprised at how long I refused to move on. I was a kid and I know our separation wasn’t what you would call normal but at that age it’s common to have a friend move and change schools and never see them again and normally you just move on but I didn’t. Perhaps you don’t feel the same but I felt there was always something about you.

“Arthur… stay with me. I can protect you now. I’m not rich or anything but we’re adults, this place is mine, you can live here with me,” Arthur can’t speak, “Sorry, you don’t have to,” Merlin says assuming Arthur’s silence is rejection, “You’re not my prisoner or anything, if you wish to leave you can. Or you can stay for however long you need and leave. I just—I want to help you Arthur. Sorry, this is coming out all wrong, I’m not saying you need help or—“

“Merlin?”

“What?”

“Shut up.”

“I-I want that, I do, but right now it’s all a little too much. Too impossible.”

“Impossible?”

“This feels like a dream. Too good to be true. Like I’m about to wake up and I’ll have to face reality again and I don’t want to deal with that. No one has shown me kindness without a price attached to it, nothing good has ever lasted, I’ve never—“

“Arthur,” Merlin says cutting him off, “this is for real, all right? I know saying it might not make it any more believable, but it is. We don’t have to look at the big picture, can take it day by day if you want to, and you’ll see over time that I mean it.  You didn’t deserve it Arthur, any of it, what happened to you was horrible and I if I could I’d change it all. I can’t change the past but we can do something about the future. I mean, obviously I can’t wave a magic wand and fix everything in your life. And it’s not necessarily going to be a fairy tale. I said I don’t expect anything from you in return but I’m not going to wait on you hand and foot as if you were a prince and I your servant. You won’t owe me anything, not money, not favours, not even help with the housework, so long as you clean up after yourself and don’t make my life hell you’re good.”

“But—“

“Eh! I’ll hear no more of it. You can stay or leave and yes, I would like it if you stayed but those are my conditions. You owe me nothing. Now finish your soup.”

☽☾

Arthur takes it day by day. At first it’s overwhelming and he can’t wrap his head around it, can’t help but try to pay Merlin back whatever way he can even though Merlin demands he takes it easy until he’s healed. It doesn’t help that Merlin buys him a tone of things; new clothes, a new coat, new boots, deodorant, razors, toothbrush, his own towel, facecloth, and loofa. He has to relearn Merlin too, figure merge the pieces of the child he knew with this adult version. Arthur gets the feeling that Merlin’s life was stressful enough without him and often finds himself wondering if he should leave, convincing himself to stay partly out of greed and partly because he feels he already owes him so much.

Merlin is in his last year of university doing an environment major and a minor in religious studies. Arthur doesn’t understand any of Merlin’s material, he doesn’t even understand the basics of university, GPAs, dissertations, seminars, it all flies over his head but it’s important to Merlin, it’s stressing Merlin out, and he wants to understand, wants to be able to help. Merlin also works a rather high paying but extremely demanding job at a bank (Merlin had told him the short version of the story as to how he ended up there, all Arthur got from it was that normally they only hired people with a degree in finance but through some strange coincidence he got the job after catching a clerical error… or something).

Arthur tried to do the cooking but soon found out Merlin was definitely better at it. He had tried to do the shopping but Merlin forbade it saying he didn’t have a car and there was no way he was luging around the groceries on foot while his rib was still healing. The worst had been when he had tried tidying only to cause Merlin to freak out and yell at him because he had laid out everything just so and had been sticking bits of paper in the books as bookmarks because he had run out of stickies and now most of them had fallen out and he had a 40% midterm this week. When Arthur had reflexively flinched when he slammed the textbooks back on the dining table Merlin’s face had changed rapidly to one of horror and Arthur had found himself wrapped up in a tight hug, Merlin apologising, promising he’s never hurt him, that he didn’t mean to yell he was just stressed out. After that Arthur stuck to the basics; he did the dishes, made the bed, did the laundry, occasionally dusted and hoovered. Oh, and he installed a new door handle. It was unbalanced though, Merlin was clear contributing much more than he was. So he vowed he’d try to get a job, it would get him out of Merlin’s hair a bit, hopefully he could contribute, pay for the shopping, maybe some of the rent, then maybe Merlin wouldn’t have to work as much and he’d have more time to study. Merlin wouldn’t hear anything about getting a job until Arthur was fully healed.

In between that time there had been awkward visits to doctors and Hunith and meetings with Merlin’s classmates and co-workers not to mention chance meetings with the neighbours in the hall, lift, car park, and even laundry room. The nice little old lady from across the hall cornered him when he was doing the laundry one day and told him how happy she was that Merlin had found himself such a handsome boyfriend. Arthur took this as a confirmation that Merlin really was gay. It had never come up in conversation and while Merlin had been rather affectionate with him, cuddling him at night, holding him and pressing kisses to his face when he started to freak out, he had never shown interest.

With this dual confirmation (that Merlin liked men and his neighbour thought he was single), the results from the blood tests showing he was more or less healthy (some vitamin and mineral deficiencies but seeing as the test was done the day after he found himself back in Merlin’s life he was sure that he was already correcting it with all the salad and nuts Merlin fed him), the excess energy he had from being cooped up for so long wishing he could do something more to help out, combined with the fact that it was clear Merlin was suffering from too much stress gave Arthur the confidence to move forward. He was therefore utterly surprised when Merlin pushed him away and asked, “What are you doing?”

“Well I was trying to kiss you.”

“Thank you Captain Obvious, I’m not that blind. _Why_ were you trying to kiss me, what were you trying to achieve?”

Arthur rolls his eyes, going on the offensive to save himself some embarrassment, Merlin probably doesn’t even like men, “That should be pretty obvious I should think, _Mer_ lin isn’t the point of kissing to seduce someone?”

“Arthur…” and Arthur can’t stand the pity in his voice.

“Whatever Merlin, I clearly was seeing signs that didn’t exist, just forget about it.” Merlin’s blocking the door before he can leave though.

“Arthur, wait!”

“Let me out Merlin.”

“No, you’re not running away from this,” he runs a hand through his hair letting out a frustrated breath, “I didn’t mean to give you mixed signals, I’m sorry. I thought I was doing all right but you probably were picking up on hints I didn’t know I was giving.”

Arthur’s eyebrows draw together, “So what are you saying? You really are into me?” Merlin sighs and gives a little nod, “Then why did you push me away?”

“Because we can’t do this Arthur.”

“Why not?” Arthur demands, “Is there someone else I don’t know about? Have you sworn some sort of vow? Training to be a priest?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Why then?” When Merlin looks away seemingly refusing to respond he raises his voice, “Why Merlin! Tell me why we can’t have this?!”

“BECAUSE IT WOULDN’T BE LOVE!” Merlin shouts back before alarm washes over his face and he retreats, both physically and mentally to go sit on the bed. Arthur’s still standing shocked still when Merlin, head in his hands whispers, “I’m sorry,” and that just confuses Arthur all the more.

“I don’t understand,” he manages to get out at last. Merlin looks up at him with sad eyes.

“Please don’t make me say it,” Merlin begs him.

“Well you are going to have to say it because obviously I’m on a completely different wave length than you.”

Merlin sighs and turns away from him again, “You’re sick Arthur.”

“I am—!” but Merlin cuts him off.

“Stop! This is why I didn’t want to bring it up. I’m sorry but it’s clear that you’re suffering from PTSD and even if you weren’t you’ve been stuck in the same thought pattern for so long that your actions tonight are a result of them, you’re repeating what allowed you to survive in the past. I’m not one of _them_ Arthur,” at least Merlin doesn’t need to tell him who _they_ are, “I don’t think, at least I hope, you don’t put me in the same category as them but if I allowed you to continue with this you would.” Arthur goes to defend himself but Merlin cuts him off again, “You might not think it now but it’s clear that some part of you still feels indebted to me and this is your way of trying to pay me back. I can’t accept you until I am sure the reasons behind your actions are the right ones. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings but I want to be sure of them before we pursue this.”

“Can I speak now?” Arthur asks raising an eyebrow and Merlin nods. “For the record, that sort of fucking hurts being told that I don’t love you. Like, for God’s sake Merlin, we got married in when I was bloody four years old. Ah! Let me finish,” he says cutting Merlin off this time, “You make it sound like I’m broken, that if you don’t stop me I’ll turn into some sort of sex slave for you. Did you ever even consider that this is me getting better, taking the next step forward, trying to trust you?”

“I’m sorry Arthur, I know we would both like to believe that but the thing is you don’t necessarily know your own mind right now, I’m not saying that I do either. Starting this now could hurt us both, it’s just best if we wait until you start getting your life back together.”

“ _Married_ ,” Arthur grits out, “When we were _four_.”

“Yes but that doesn’t really mean much, does it? I’m the rarity. You rarely feel the same way about something decades later. You look back on something and become nostalgic but you fail to remember the bad things. Like mud pie,”

“Mud pie?”

“Yeah, that chocolate on chocolate pie with gummy worms in it. When I was four I loved it, when I tried it again when I was twelve I hated it, sugar overload and slimy texture. Both of us have change Arthur, and our “marriage” back then was nothing like a real relationship, it was just a game, we were just kids. We’re adults now Arthur. You’ve seen what I’m like, _I_ have anxiety issues, I can barely handle work, school, and my minimal social life as it is, I don’t think I could manage any type of romantic relationship right now and I know that if I start this with you I’ll just be worried the entire time that I’d end up hurting you.” He falls silent and a part of Arthur thinks he is just making excuses while a more logical part understands.

He’s seen what Merlin’s like with his school work, he knows that their fights now are a lot worse than arguing over which game to play, fighting hurts a lot more now, is harder to forget. In a sense he’s known Merlin forever but this adult version? He hasn’t even known him a fortnight yet and he supposes that most romantic relationships don’t start that fast, even if most of his did. He starts questioning himself, maybe he is treating this like he has all other relationships, had he not been seeking ways to repay Merlin earlier when he had done the dishes and the laundry? No! He knew what he was feeling! He knew what he wanted and he was going after it and…

“Hey,” Merlin whispers wrapping Arthur up in a hug, “it’s okay, I’ve got you,” maybe he is broken, it would explain the amount of crying he’d been doing recently. Merlin was right, he was wrong, he didn’t want to be like this, he’d been fine.

“Why now?” he asks aloud, “I was fine.”

“You’re processing. In most cases it’s the first step to getting better, you sort of have to get worse first. Before you didn’t allow yourself to think about it, you were not really living, just trying to survive each day. Now that you’ve realized you’re safe you have to process everything from your past before you can move on. It’s the same reason most soldiers are fine on the front lines and then develop PTSD once they’ve been sent home.”

“Will you wait? For me to get better?”

“Of course. Just because we aren’t having sex or dating doesn’t mean I don’t love you. While it does mean we aren’t tied down and that you are free to change your mind without having to go through the hassle of ending things it doesn’t mean I’ll look for someone else. I promise I’ll wait for you Arthur, until that time please accept me as your friend and let me take care of you.”

Arthur nods through more tears, he’s happy/sad again, “Thank you Merlin.”

Merlin smiles, not a full blown smile but it’s real, “You’re welcome, now let’s get to bed, it’s late and we’re both tired.”

Merlin gets them both back under the covers and turns off the lamp. Arthur’s first fear of having made things awkward is dismissed when Merlin cuddles up to him. Part of him, the part he’s now going to label as “Anxiety: DO NOT LISTEN TO” tries to bring up his fears and doubts, _Merlin’s lying, he won’t wait, he’ll find someone else, this was his way of letting you down easy, you’ll never get better, you’re going to get worse and end up in an insane asylum and they’ll force pills down your throat and you’ll never see the light of day again, **Merlin loves me, and I believe him.** You shouldn’t believe him, he’ll only end up hurting you, he’ll be just like the others! **I believe him because he’s given me no real reason to doubt his word and going around questioning everyone and everything is no way to live**_. And Merlin’s right because after he starts a silent mantra of _Merlin loves me_ to drive away the negative thoughts he finds himself fast asleep.

Since meeting Merlin again there have been many turning points, many times he could say his journey to getting better began. He started getting better the very day Merlin found him and after that argument that night he accepted his situation and committed to getting better. It was slow going, it wasn’t perfect, but it was forward and he was proud, Merlin was proud and that felt wonderful. The last real thick patch he has is starting a romantic relationship with Merlin. He hadn’t been sure what “better” meant to Merlin, he was physically better, had set up a few sessions with the doctor's wife, Alice, who was a psychologist, and that helped a lot more than what he thought it would, had managed to obtain a job and set aside a few hundred dollars in savings, had overridden his default distrust of new people and things, had discovered what he wanted to do with his life, was taking his A levels, didn’t have nightmares anymore or flashbacks or the inclination to hide, run, or cry when there was a loud noise. With each victory he had asked Merlin, at first tentatively and then with a bit of annoyance if he had improved enough to start a real relationship. Finally he realized the reason he wasn’t “better” yet was because he was asking Merlin, relying on Merlin to tell him whether or not he was ready for a romantic relationship and that meant he _wasn’t_ because he himself was questioning the answer. He put his theory to the test the night Merlin finished his finals, instead of asking if they could date yet or if he was ready yet he had asked if he could take Merlin out to celebrate, as boyfriends, and Merlin had said yes and Arthur believed it to be the happiest day of his life. After that he no longer asks Merlin if he thinks Arthur is ready for something, he goes after what he wants and only asks about whether Merlin is all right with it.

(He supposes, many years later while looking at the photograph, that he did ask Merlin once more about his position in their relationship, and that was the day he asked if he could be Merlin’s husband.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Now go be jolly while pretending your little hearts weren't ripped into pieces when everyone died and then shredded further when you realized Merlin has been alone for 1500+ years waiting for his king to return!


End file.
